


Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon

by Gosh_Golly_Yall



Series: OC Writing Prompts [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Domestic Fluff, England (Country), F/M, Nice stuff, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Victorian, the calm before the storm ahaha, winter weather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:53:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27887842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gosh_Golly_Yall/pseuds/Gosh_Golly_Yall
Summary: It's midwinter, and Genevieve wakes up to the frost, both outside the window and inside the bedroom. Emory, asleep after a long night of writing, eventually (and surprisingly) comes around too. Neither wants to leave the bed- it's simply too cold for that.
Series: OC Writing Prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2042002
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> Not the best writing or title as I...do not write but prompt 1 out of ? given for these fools! Expect more in the future perhaps.  
> A little over 500 words haha that's okay

Genevieve awoke to the dim bedroom, her eyes focusing on the view of the outside through a gap between the translucent linen curtains. From what she could see, outside looked much more grey and even duller than the day before. In this dull greyness flew white flurries, falling gently from the dark sky to the Earth below, covering everything in sight with a thin layer of soft, yet cold, white midwinter snow. Observing this disappointing sight for a few moments, the woman shifted in bed, turning away from the window to lie on her back, careful not to wake the sleeping man beside her as she rested her head gently into the soft pillow once more.

If outside looked cold, the room was in fact freezing, at least by her standards. The warm flames of the fireplace from the night before were nothing more than dying embers now, hardly providing, if at all, warmth to the room, let alone Genevieve herself. She shuddered slightly, pulling the covers up even higher and gripping them gently, wanting to keep as warm as she could.

The room remained silent, the only sounds she could hear being the occasional crackle of the pathetic embers, and the slow, soft breathing of her fiancé beside her. Slowly, she turned her head to face him, pushing back strands of her ginger hair as she looked at the man before her. Emory had gotten into bed somewhat late again last night, fretting over publishing due dates and what not for his latest drafts of writings. For the past week it seemed to be routine for him, locked in the study, filling blank sheets of paper top to bottom with whatever he had been writing about; with the amount of work he’d managed to get done, and so enthusiastically too, in so little time, it seemed as if he could go on like that for God knows how long. And yet, there he was, eyes closed, the covers rising and falling gently with each silent breath he took.

It was not unusual for him to mumble a few words in his sleep, mere bits of nonsense resulting from exhaustion leftover from the day. He was indeed quite a busy man, not just with his writing, but with other daily errands in need of his attention. But this time, she noticed that all was silent, and he slumbered peacefully. He was a bit of a heavy sleeper some nights, she knew that much...but still, she wondered…

“Emory?” She whispered ever so gently, this time turning her body to face him as she waited, unsure if she'd get a response or not.

“...Hm..?" Came the faint, delayed response a few moments later as the man, much to her surprise, had come awake, albeit barely.

“Oh-you’re awake?” She asked almost in a childlike way, blinking her green eyes in slight surprise. She hadn’t expected him to actually respond. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry-”

“No...no, don’t worry.” Emory had assured her softly, yet groggily, shifting in his own place in bed a bit, eyes still closed as he spoke slowly.“I don’t mind..I’m awake...what time is it?” Genevieve glanced up to find the clock in the room, squinting a little as she leaned, brushing more strands of hair out of her vision.

”It’s 11:45, Emory,” she had said after a few moments.

“My, my…” The man groaned aloud, lying on his back now as his fingers pushed his own dark curls away from his forehead, heavy dark blue eyes gradually fluttering open. “Nearly noon, and yet, I’ve no desire to leave this warm bed at all...”

“Well...would you prefer,” Genevieve started slowly, adjusting herself to lay closer to him under the warmth of the covers, “to remain in bed, then? A little while longer? It’s much too cold to leave.”

Emory had turned his head, his eyes meeting hers as he gave a small smile. Underneath, their hands soon found each other, fingers interlocking as he squeezed her hand softly, Genevieve doing the same.

“That, my dear,” he began, quietly, sinking back into his own pillow a little, “is a wonderful idea.”


End file.
